


A Degree of Comfort

by niciasus



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niciasus/pseuds/niciasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evidence can be a doubled-edge sword. Post ep story – Season 1, Friends and Lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Degree of Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Story written prior to 2006. Updating A03 with stories from my fiction site.

> “The sky is darkening like a stain; something is going to fall like rain; and it won’t be flowers.” -WH Auden, “The Witnesses."

“Let the evidence speak for itself.” Gil vividly remembered, while they were hanging out in the hallway of the courtroom he’d told those words to Warrick. He hadn’t wanted to send out mix signals, but he did and then he had to correct the situation for he wanted his CSIs to approach evaluating evidence with objectivity, a practice he’d established long before he’d landed his first professional job at a crime lab. The crime lab was not the place for personal agenda.

“We don’t impose our will. We don’t impose our hopes on the evidence.” Just before Ethan had strutted from the courtroom into the hallway, this rule Gil had reminded Warrick. Warrick had listened, took in his words, asked questions, waited for Gandhi to enlighten his mind.

““

Later the same day, Warrick and Gill were on the ledge of a gray wall made of stone that closed off the requisite garden to an official building like the Las Vegas Police Department. They sat next to each other facing the PD’s Command Area having a long needed break. A police car drove by.

The sun on their faces – Warrick drank his coffee, his presence strong, unaffected, and silent. A chill began to settle in the air despite the warmth of the sun. Warrick’s strength usually a stabilizing force when calmed escaped Gil. He sat picking at his mouth and digging fingers in his eye.

Neither Gil nor Warrick made the effort to engage in conversation. Partly because of Gil’s reticence and partly from the anticipation Gil wished not to confront. He knew what was taking place inside the police building. Warrick knew as well. They could have gone somewhere else and have their break. The need for their appearance wasn’t necessary and yet they somehow ended up at the one place Gil would rather have avoided.

He looked up at the sky; the sun had captured a glimpse of darkness. And he suddenly thought of WH Auden’s ‘the sky is darkening like a stain; something is going to fall like rain; and it won’t be flowers.’ Really, Gil thought to himself his reaction bordered on melodramatic and still he couldn’t shake off the anxiety. He held on and knew not what he held onto. Except, no need in denying the one undeniable fact, he couldn’t stop thinking about Bobby.

Situated on the side of the garden was the entrance to the PD building. Recognizing the scrapping sound, Gil turned toward the opening door. Two officers exited the building with Bobby between them. Bobby’s hands clasped behind his back secured in handcuffs as he walked with the officers to their destination. Bobby caught Gil’s eyes and they stared at each other.

The facial expression on Bobby’s face was hopelessness. Gil knew how deep the expression went, Bobby had admitted he no longer care about what will happen to him. The surrender Gil saw on the boy’s face made him – and Gil’s throat clenched to choke out the emotions, a sick feel trickled down to his stomach.

Gil stared at the nice kid who couldn’t remember he’d murdered his best friend. It was an accidental death that justice exacted retribution. Gil’s hands clasped, fell to his lap, his head rolled to his chest. And there it hung. Hazy eyes stared at the ground. He can’t watch Bobby step inside that police van, can’t endured the sight of that van taking Bobby away to this new life, a life Bobby surely was unprepared for yet willing to accept.

He slid off the stone ledge and began marching away, determined to put Bobby and the van behind him.

Warrick asked, “Where you’re going?”

“Away,” he replied. Not once did he look back at Warrick.

““

Gil had reached the parking lot and yanked keys from his pants pocket when he realized Warrick stood on the passenger side of his Tahoe. Warrick, should’ve gone back into the building, back to work, back to whatever. If Warrick had been paying attention, he’d had known that Gil didn’t want his company and that obviously their break was over.

He slid inside the truck, keyed the ignition, and quietly backed the truck out of the parking lot. Warrick sat on the passenger seat apparently respecting Gil’s desire for no conversation.

They drove for a while with just the purring sound of the engine filling the quiet space.

Warrick finally spoke up. “You think we should be getting back to work? Or at least call someone?”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“Right.” He whipped out his cell phone and dialed.

Gil didn’t care who Warrick talked to or which explanation he gave for his disappearing act. Bobby’s case had them working an extended shift and he was the senior on the case, he was the night shift supervisor.

“It’s done.” Warrick stated and returned the cell phone to the pocket of his jacket.

Twitching worked Gil’s mouth. Gil clamped down on any response he would’ve made. It would’ve been unpleasant. He didn’t want to hurt Warrick with antagonism.

In the center of Vegas, vehicles slowed by the traffic lights on a two-lane highway. The sun glinted off one of the tall casino buildings; he saw sparkles on his truck’s windshield. The tourists soaked up the sun and moved to the hidden buzz of a gambling city. Many of the tourists would lose their hard earned cash at the casinos.

Gil, checking the traffic flow, glanced over at Warrick, who frowned, staring at the people. How many, Gil thought, will die tonight. Will any of them be as innocent and foolish as Bobby and Eric?

Bobby should have known better. A drug was a drug; there were consequences to swallowing down drugs. Even legal drugs have side affects.

But it was Ethan that Gil despised. Hated creeps like Ethan that dealt drugs and preyed on unsuspecting young kids. True, Jimson weed wasn’t a controlled substance and it caused death in rare cases. Nevertheless, Eric had died, from misinformation and that misinformation came from Ethan.

Ethan’s belligerent attitude knew no bounds. Smooth, sarcastic, intelligent, enough smarts to know the law for his nefarious purposes, and he had the boldness to pull it off, Ethan wasn’t above strutting and shoving his overly arrogant stuff into Gil’s face. Ethan also wasn’t above rubbing Gil’s ego raw when the judge had release him from jail with minimum punishment.

He kept driving, straight out of town onto the highway of the desert.

““

The miles Gil had put behind, a builder could build another Las Vegas at the present location and still the distance between the two cities would’ve kept the boundaries from meeting. Warrick had been semi-comatose for more than an hour. His body slumped in what seemed an uncomfortable position. His head lolled about on the headrest moving to the shifting of the truck.

Gil recognized the attitude of stony silence wasn’t fair to Warrick. Guilt crept, invading Gil’s defenses. He should be considerate. He was angry. He hurt. Warrick carried no blame. Warrick was there for him like he was there for Warrick and they never could get past first base.

He’d driven another ten minutes when Warrick straight in his seat, looked around and then stretched out arms and legs. “How long?”

“We’ve been riding or you sleeping?”

“Sleeping, I guess.”

“About one hour.”

Warrick scrubbed his face with a hand. “Oh.”

Gil watched the long opened road. The traffic was light on this highway and he could see the mountaintop in the far off distance through the tinted glass of the windshield. He wondered at the length and time it would take to reach that mountain.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Warrick said.

“Never said that it was.”

“Nothing we could have done about the evidence.”

“I know, Warrick. Doesn’t make it right.”

“No. And life isn’t always fair.”

“Is there something you want to say?” Gil knew his voice was testy, this side of arrogance. Warrick could’ve stayed in Vegas and left him alone.

“You forgot to believe in your own rule. What goes on out there, man, can’t be found in books.” A hand flipped at the window of the truck to demonstrate what he meant by “out there.”

“I know what I said about evidence.” As if anyone else could write the manual on forensic analysis.

“That isn’t exactly what I mean, Gil. And you know it.”

“Warrick, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It came out and bit you on the ass, didn’t it.”

But damn wasn’t Warrick as mulish as he was. Annoyed, what was the point of holding back unless he wanted death by irritation. “I wanted to have that punk put away. What happens? The judge pats Ethan on the back and tells him not to get in any more trouble.” Gil admitted in disgust.

“I can dig the problem.”

“Do you see the fairness in that?” Gil asked, almost glaring at Warrick.

The highway was in front of him he turned back to it. He thought of Bobby and could taste the sorrow on his face.

“No. Fairness is not on top of my list.”

“Bobby rots in prison or in a mental hospital unable to forgive himself. Ethan thinks life is grand and will go on serving his brand of happiness.” Gil snorted.

“It’s our job to present the evidence as it is, not what we want it to be.”

“We did that. I’ve no problem with the evidence,” Gil said, evasively.

“You wished that we’d manipulated the evidence?”

Gil foot came up off the accelerator. The truck gradually slowed down. It was a shock hearing the words out loud, an idea he played with just before he brought the teeth mold to Bobby and his lawyer’s attention. The idea came and he dropped it immediately from his mind. It was at this point Gil knew how affected he was by the entire case. He’d never thought of such a thing before in his entire career.

Gil drove the Tahoe off the road onto the shoulder. He leaned back in the seat after throwing the gear into park. The truck’s engine still on, cool air blew in from the vents.

“No,” he said, digging fingers in tired eyes. Twisting his head round to the side window at the bare, life-starving desert. He could never admit this to anyone especially to someone who looked to him for guidance. “We can’t start thinking that way. It goes against ethics and my moral code.” He said, turning back to Warrick.

“I hear what you saying, but come on tell me what you really feel.” Warrick searched his face with those green-colored, frowning eyes. The intensity peeled back his reserve and as always Warrick got under his skin in ways no one else could. Warrick was a danger to the walls he’d built.

“I feel betrayed and violated. Like this Ethan character had come into my place of resident and spread his disease.”

“I think he made you question your values.”

“He made me realize just how smart you are.”

“Hey, what?” Warrick said, confused. His eyes widened in surprise.

“You were right about the evidence: it is a double-edged sword. You knew that. At the courthouse, I think you were trying to remind me.”

“I just know how we treat evidence doesn’t always agree to what we feel. It points out the truth. It also punishes a person like Bobby who’d never have become a hardened criminal. You may not want to believe this, but the moment you got into Ethan’s face at Rave you had already imposed yourself onto his life. You made accusations that couldn’t stand up to evidence. You did that because you were right, but not accurate.”

Gil cocked his head to the side and took a good look at Warrick. He remembered the reasons why he enjoyed Warrick’s company. He saw the man. A handsome man he’d tried to ignore for years. He’d refused to acknowledge with his mind the attraction they had for each other. The gleam in the eyes, the undivided attention they lavished on Gil. Warrick huge, intelligent, the embodiment of edginess, sometimes seemed dangerous for the forensic profession. Gil’s anger started slipping.

“Yeah,” Gil responded. He really didn’t have much to offer; deep down he knew Warrick’s assessment was on target.

“Bobby is an innocent. It doesn’t pay to be that naive. Naiveté will take you down roads you don’t want go. Don’t misunderstand me. I like Bobby, too. I feel for him.”

“And a superior attitude will slam you in the face,” Gil said, slammed hard when he remembered his reaction at the courthouse. Wasn’t he the one that lectured on impartiality?

“Yeah, man. But it’s okay to feel deeply about something. Life hurt sometimes. You know that you’re alive.”

Gil nodded his head, listening to the words, filling him with meanings. Yeah, he hurt; there was no doubt about that, but Bobby. Bobby hurt more. Bobby needed forgiveness. Bobby had to learn to forgive himself, Gil told Warrick.

“Yeah, man. Time. Only time will heal him,” Warrick replied.

“I can make myself useful, though. I will keep my promise to Bobby and his lawyer.”

Long, brown fingers reached over and touched Gil, stroking him on the thigh, soothing him. Surprised yet not surprised, he and Warrick had danced around each other long enough. Gil leaned over the truck’s console. Warrick met him half way. Gil stared at Warrick, cataloging all his features before they kissed. Warrick soothed away his anger and Gil gave in to the comforting touch, no longer resisting.

Gil pulled away and ran the flat of his hand down the side of Warrick’s face. He smiled and put the truck in drive, swung it into a u-turned back onto the highway, and drove back to Las Vegas.

“Are you hungry?” He asked Warrick. Warrick’s hand still on his thigh. Gil gripped it with his right hand and squeezed.

“Yeah. I’m starving.”

Gil laughed. “I can’t imagine why you would be.”

“And Warrick?” He waited until Warrick looked at him. He couldn’t keep his eyes from the road that long, but he needed to say this. “You were right about the evidence.”

A second ticked by, maybe two, or three. Understanding bloomed if the widening of Warrick’s eyes were a sign. “Aw, man.” Warrick slumped back into his seat. Head nodding. He slid fingers between Gil’s and held them in his grip.

The End


End file.
